


Force My Hand

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AKA, Bakura Ryou has Trauma, Emotional Baggage, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I wrote this for me but y'all can read it if you want, M/M, Post-Canon, Psychosomatic Injuries, Psychosomatic Paralysis, not DSoD compliant, probably not GX compliant either but who's to say, the actual story? speedrun, the romance? slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: Ryou Bakura is miserable - and who could blame him? Possessed for eight years of his life, thrown headfirst into a millennia old fight that took everything out of him, left deeply scarred, terrified, and half-dead in the aftermath, and now being forced to choose college or work in lieu of a gap year without ever being given time to process everything... It's a lot for one person to handle. He's not even sure how to handle it, and now he's not being given the chance to.But something is changing in his life, and maybe...Maybe it's exactly the change he needs.
Relationships: Bakura Ryou & Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler, Bakura Ryou & Mutou Yuugi, Bakura Ryou/Marik Ishtar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Force My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Just real quick I wanna say sorry to the people subscribed to me who have to experience my sudden boom of posting random crap every week I'm just trying to reach a wordcount goal again and I need to average about 1500 a day in order to reach it by the end of the year  
> also! I just moved into an apartment after a year of living in hotels so that's great ^^  
> On the downside the cost of moving in (ya know, security deposit, first and last month's rent, all that fun stuff) kinda beat our funds down again so my phone service is gonna be out for a little while and we won't have internet, but that just means more time for me to write without worrying about posting lol

Few things made Ryou feel as shitty as being forced into making decisions he otherwise wouldn’t make. Particularly if he had plans to the complete contrary but circumstance forced his hand.

And that was, probably, the biggest reason that he currently felt like a walking corpse. Why he felt like throwing up  _ all the time. _ Why he couldn’t sleep and when he did it was either for entirely too little time or entirely too much. A single hour or fourteen - there wasn’t an in-between for him right now.

Ryou’s plans after high school (and after ridding himself and the world of the Spirit of the Ring) were fairly simple: He was going to take a year off, then go to college. Initially he’d actually planned to go  _ straight _ to college, but the Spirit had fucked that all up by simply existing, which he was admittedly okay with. He didn’t  _ want _ to head straight to college, he’d only planned to because, fuck it, he knew what he was going to do with his life, he might as well start in on it, right away, right?

But then he’d started planning to take a year off. Take a break. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to revel in no longer having to worry about Zorc or the Spirit with still being in school. He was too busy. And he severely needed a break after everything they put him through, even more so after finishing high school without a chance to  _ really _ relax.

The moment he got his diploma, he all but collapsed under the force of the relief he felt. The relief he’d been holding off on experiencing until he could appreciate it. The relief of finally being free of Zorc piled on top of the relief of being done with high school was a force to be reckoned with.

He barely got enough time to breath, though. His dad, though his heart was in the right place, didn’t  _ want _ Ryou to take a year off. He didn’t want him stewing in his apartment for a year. He didn’t want him to possibly  _ never _ go to college because of that gap year. And if he  _ did  _ take the year off, he wanted him to get a job so he wouldn’t be holed up all the time.

His heart was in the right place.

But he was kind of forcing Ryou’s hand here.

It was a job or school, and given the available options for a job in Domino? He’d really rather go to college.

But he fucking  _ needed _ that gap year. He  _ needed _ a break. He didn’t think his dad understood that. He needed time to relax, unwind, not have to worry about any sort of responsibilities aside from keeping himself alive - no tests, no homework, no job, no evil spirits or shadow games, and  _ especially _ no waking up at six in the fucking morning for work or school.

Starting college in the summer wasn’t exactly common practice, but it ended up being exactly what Ryou had to do in order to keep his dad pleased.

He fucking hated it.

He hadn’t even  _ started _ yet and he hated it.

He had a grand total of two days left before he went in to register for classes and he felt so utterly sick to his stomach he thought he might cry.

He was sure it wouldn’t be  _ that _ bad, but…

But god  _ fucking _ dammit why couldn’t he just  _ relax? _ What did the world have against the idea of him taking a break? Why did everything have to conspire against him? He thought his run of bad luck had fucking ended when he got rid of the Spirit, but  _ no, _ of course not. Why would it be that simple? Why should Ryou Bakura  _ ever _ get a chance to breathe?

It was fine, though. He was used to suffocating.

He kinda just wished he didn’t have to. He was kinda looking forward to not having to. But, you know, as usual, the thing he dared to look forward to was getting wrenched from his fingers like an umbrella in a storm.

It was fine.

It was  _ fine. _

It wasn’t like… It wasn’t like he needed…

It wasn’t like he needed to take a break or anything. This was fine. He’d live. He’d survive. He’d pulled through worse things in the past. He could live through not getting a break. It was just going to fucking  _ suck, _ was all.

He could totally do it.

Didn’t mean he wanted to, though.

Didn’t mean he should have to, either.

Oh well.

Nothing he could do about it.

Only thing he could do was think about if he still wanted to do what he’d planned on doing with his life. Did he still  _ want _ to be an archaeologist like his father after everything?

…

Not really.

And at this point he’d prefer if he could do  _ literally anything else. _

He’d had his fill of tombs and curses and artifacts, thank you very much. He was tired of them. He didn’t want anything to do with anything else of that nature.

But that just opened up another issue!

He had two days to figure out what he  _ did _ want to do.

Really, all he had at this point was a list of the things he  _ didn’t _ want to do.

No art, no writing, no archeology. No math, definitely. Probably didn’t want to be a teacher of any kind. Not particularly interested in the sciences.  _ Hard _ no on religion.

It… Didn’t leave much that he could do.

Halfway to tears, he curled up on the floor of his spare room and wondered if, maybe, he could just lie to his father. It wasn’t like he was  _ here. _ He just called and wrote from Egypt and occasionally England or America. He came to Japan  _ twice a year _ and that wasn’t even consistently. There were still  _ months _ until his 19th birthday, and even more until Christmas. Surely he could just… Pretend? Fake it?

… But no.

He was tired of lying to people.

If he was in school his dad would continue paying his room and board and he’d probably still throw him extra money around his birthday and Christmas and if he could show proof of good grades. If he worked his father would still contribute to the rent fund and he’d probably double the amount of money he sent at Christmas and on his birthday.

And either way the truth was that even if he  _ wasn’t _ tired of lying, he couldn’t survive like that. He could pretend to go to school, sure, but he didn’t want to keep lying to his father all the time and he’d have no money at all to spend on anything else so he knew he’d just essentially curl up and do exactly what his father didn’t want him to. He’d stagnate and hole himself up for a year. And if he pretended to  _ work _ he’d never make enough money to make rent so that’d be even  _ worse. _

He didn’t know what the fuck to do.

He dragged himself out of the apartment that night, regardless of his turmoil, and managed to trudge himself to the meetup Yugi had invited him to. He invited him to all of them, and Ryou… Ryou kept coming to them. He didn’t think the others expected him to. But at least they didn’t seem  _ angry _ about it―just surprised, and maybe a little wary. He didn’t blame them.

By now they seemed used to his continued presence at their weekly meetup at the park near Yugi’s place. Maybe even happy he was there.

“Ha, there he is!” Joey’s voice boomed triumphantly, “Hey, ‘Kura!”

He couldn’t help smiling a little. “Hello, Joey.” He greeted, and felt more than a little fond at the clear desire the blonde had to sweep him into a hug. “Go ahead, you have my permission.”

This was one of the reasons he came to these things, he’d admit. He was always just a little on the touch starved side and Joey gave  _ amazing  _ hugs. The very first time Ryou had been comfortable allowing one he felt very much like he’d had his soul pressed back into his body. The following times weren’t any different.

And this time followed the theme.

Joey’s arms wrapped around his waist and he wrapped his arms around Joey’s shoulders, and Joey  _ squeezed _ and then he was hefting him up and spinning him. He muffled his laugh in Joey’s shoulder. Joey didn’t bother muffling his.

Joey held him for a moment after they stopped spinning, then carefully sat his feet back on the ground.

Ryou offered a smile when they pulled apart, and Joey offered a grin in return.

That at least made him feel a little better.

He greeted the others and they all shared more smiles than physical contact. Then Yugi was pulling him into a much softer,  _ gentler _ hug than Joey gave, and it satisfied a different part of him.

Joey hugged him and held him like he just couldn’t resist pouring all of his strength and feeling into the embrace, and that was nice because Ryou had been called weak and  _ treated _ like he was weak his entire life. Joey didn’t treat him like he was weak―Joey treated him with the same kind of wholehearted brotherly adoration he treated the rest of the group with. He treated him like  _ he’d _ break before Ryou did.

Yugi, though… Yugi hugged him delicately. He still held tightly, but there was less force. Yugi treated him not as if he was made of glass, but as if he was precious, and he wanted to be careful not to scuff or hurt him. It wasn’t a matter of him being weak. It was a matter of him already being cracked here and there, and Yugi not wanting to make it any worse.

… Yugi was about the only person that Ryou could appreciate gentleness from, because Yugi  _ understood. _ He didn’t want to be treated like he was weak and breakable either.

The hug was satisfying, regardless.

And when they pulled away, he noticed an unusual guest lingering off to the side, looking  _ very  _ out of place. He started to cock his head a bit, but managed to avoid doing so fully. Thankfully no one noticed.

But Yugi  _ did _ notice that he was considering the new member of the group.

And he looked understandably nervous about it.

“... Okay, so,” He started, softly, “I know all you really got to see of him back in the day was him being evil―”

“If he’s not now,” Ryou cut him off, calmly, “Then what I saw back then doesn’t matter. If you recall, I was kind of evil at the time, too.”

Yugi seemed to relax, and the newcomer closed his eyes to breath a sigh of clear relief.

Turning to the newcomer fully, Ryou considered him a moment longer. Then, holding out a hand, said, “I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. I’m Ryou Bakura.”

There was a half-second of hesitation before his hand was taken, lightly, and shaken. “Marik Ishtar.” The newcomer said, smiling nervously.

Ryou smiled in return, and to clear the air a little more effectively he said, “I trust Yugi’s judgement―if he says you aren’t evil,” He paused to roll his eyes and press some additional emphasis on the word, “Then I believe him.”

And all of the rigidity in Marik’s posture melted right out. He smiled a little, again, then sort of laughed. “Thank fuck,” He said, and Ryou could certainly relate to the relief, “And thank  _ you, _ Bakura.”

He smiled at him graciously, and this was… Well, it was kind of bizarre, really. Bizarre enough that he might be able to focus on it  _ instead _ of the nastiness roiling around in his guts. That would be good for him, for now. Distracting himself was a viable coping mechanism, right? That was something he could do?

He was going to do it anyway.

And the little meeting went more or less as expected. Marik’s addition to the group caused some stops and starts here and there, when the others weren’t quite comfortable with his presence or what have you. Ryou, for the most part, went on as usual―Marik’s presence wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t know him, but what did he care? How could he possibly make any worse of an impression than the Spirit had?

He was a god damned ray of sunshine in comparison to  _ that _ crusty old prick.

Marik would be lucky to know him. Simple as that. No bones about it.

Still, it was somewhat unnerving when, as everyone started to disperse, Marik hesitated. Stayed in place a moment longer than the others. And Ryou tried to ignore it, of course―it wasn’t his business. He didn’t  _ care _ what Marik did, or what he felt right now. He was hard pressed to care how  _ anyone _ felt, least of all someone he didn’t even  _ know. _

“Bakura,” Marik said, just as Ryou was about to leave after getting his parting hugs from Yugi and Joey.

He paused, glancing at Marik and simply lifting a brow as his answer. He hadn’t been expecting a direct address… Marik had known him all of an hour and a half, what could he  _ possibly _ want to talk to him about? It wasn’t as if they really had all that much in common at the surface level.

So what in the  _ world _ did he want?

“Listen, I don’t want to waste your time, but I do… Have some questions.”

And Marik seemed… Far less confident and cocky than he had two years ago. He was phrasing it as a simple statement―something to be easily shrugged off should Ryou decide he wasn’t interested in it. And talking about wasting  _ Ryou’s _ time? No one had ever cared so much about his precious and utterly  _ empty _ schedule.

He was a little impressed.

Unnerved, but impressed.

“Well, let’s not waste  _ anyone’s _ time, then.” Ryou chose to say, simply, “If you’ve terribly much to ask, we can head to my flat to discuss it? I do prefer not to be on the streets after sundown if I can avoid it.”

Marik seemed startled for a second (as did Yugi, somewhere off to his own side), then cast a glance at the swiftly descending sun. He turned his eyes back to Ryou just as quickly as they’d left him and he nodded. “If it’s no trouble to you? I don’t know how long it will take.”

“Just try to keep up, alright?” Ryou quirked a brow, and it startled a little laugh out of Marik, who nonetheless chose to stride to his side before he could walk away.

Yugi gave the two of them a concerned look, then seemed to decide that Ryou could handle it. He gave one last parting smile, grabbed Joey’s hand, and all but dragged the blonde away before he could start questioning whether or not this was a good idea. Ryou appreciated that.

And thus he ended up leading Marik through the streets to his building, then up the stairs to his flat.

“Well,” Said Ryou, after they’d toed their shoes off at the door and settled into the living room, “I suppose if you’ve got questions…”

Marik nodded, then, hesitantly, “How much, exactly, do you remember of Battle City?”

Ah, of course he was worried about that. The others seemed to have forgiven him for his misdeeds and trespasses back then, but they all  _ remembered. _ They’d all been party to pretty much everything necessary for forgiving him, including several of his misdeeds and trespasses.

Ryou… Had not been.

He had  _ been there, _ certainly. The Spirit hardly kept him locked away at all times when there was the slightest chance he could be noticed if he was out and about too long as the dominant personality. He’d been party to some interesting stuff, back then, that he hadn’t entirely understood. But he’d been so used to waking up in the middle of weird crap happening that he’d hardly even been  _ fazed. _

And then there had been the deal of briefly sharing a body with the man currently sitting across the coffee table from him.

That had been interesting.

Thankfully Ryou had built up his walls within his mind and within the Ring high enough that Marik hadn’t seen anything of  _ his _ while he was in there… And if he had, it hadn’t been anything important. He kept all of that locked up tight with the remains of his soul.

“Not terribly much,” He admitted, finally, “The Spirit hardly hid any of it from me, but getting comfortable in my own mind and tuning the world out when he was in control was the easiest way to avoid panic attacks, at the time. I only really remember bits and pieces in any great detail.”

Marik nodded again, looking a little relieved but overall just as hesitant as before. “I don’t suppose you remember him stabbing you?”

“I remember waking up in the hospital,” Ryou supplied unhelpfully, “And wondering who in the world would stab me in the bicep.”

Marik bit his lip, and it took Ryou a second to realize he was trying not to laugh at that. He didn’t question it―just let his own lips quirk up a bit.

And it went on like that, more or less. Marik asked him questions about Battle City, and about the Spirit, and the Ring. Mostly he seemed curious, and after apparently reassuring himself that Ryou wasn’t harboring any grudges over Battle City he was overall much less hesitant.

And Ryou didn’t mind answering questions. He really didn’t―it beat having all of this information rattling around in his head and never being able to talk about any of it. Yugi didn’t really understand what Ryou had felt and understandably wasn’t wild about finding out the exact extent of how bad the Spirit had been to share with. Ryou wouldn’t dump it on him even if he wanted to know, probably. It just seemed like the sort of extra weight that Yugi  _ didn’t _ need on his shoulders.

Marik, though… Marik understood, on principle, what it had been like. He seemed almost eager to understand on a deeper level than that.

So Ryou was happy to answer his questions the best he could.

And eventually it got late, and Marik seemed to get a little startled at the darkness outside the window. He blinked, owlish and altogether very unlike the memory that Ryou had of him.

Really, that memory didn’t seem good for anything now. Not after meeting  _ this _ Marik. He may as well stop comparing…

“Oh.” Said Marik, “It’s late, I should―”

“Be honest with me,” Ryou cut him off, squinting at him a little, “Do you have anywhere else to go? Do you know how to get there in the dark?”

Flushing, Marik sunk back into his seat. He’d started to sit up, almost gotten to his feet―but with red cheeks he turned his lilac eyes back toward the window. “Well― yes and no?”

Ryou shook his head. He didn’t know if he was amused or annoyed, really. Maybe both? “Call whoever you’re staying with and let them know where you are,” He said, “I have a spare bed you can use for the night.”

Marik stared for a moment, eyes wide and owlish again. He looked like a child, really. Surprised, open, innocent… Ryou missed when  _ he _ looked like that. Now all he looked like was a tired raccoon, most days. He didn’t have any innocence left to display quite like that. The Spirit had done a  _ wonderful _ job fouling that up.

“... You’re much kinder than your face would have led me to believe,” Marik admitted after a quiet moment, “But I― Erm, thank you, Bakura. I appreciate it.”

Ryou had to muffle his snort behind his hand, “Think nothing of it,” He said, once he’d recovered, “But please know that this kindness was not easy to come by.”

“I can’t imagine it was,” The Egyptian agreed almost too quickly, “Given what you’ve been through, even just what little I really understand, it would be much easier for you to be callous and angry.”

“Indeed.” Ryou quirked his brows a bit, then, with a little less joking than he intended, “I find not having the time to process trauma can make it easier to respond to it differently than people expect you to.”

It seemed to fall rather flat, because Marik’s brows drew together a little bit―but blessedly he seemed to choose not to comment. He just nodded and went about pulling out his phone and pacing away to tell whoever he was staying with where he was.

Ryou stood while he was busy, sweeping off into the spare bedroom and spending a moment moving all the boxes of crafting supplies around and making sure the bed didn’t smell musty, considering it hadn’t been used for anything but a makeshift sorting table since the last time he made it  _ months _ ago.

They had a civil, almost friendly dinner together after that, and eventually Marik went to bed without any large amount of fuss.

Ryou sat in the living room in the dark for the next seven hours and hoped that it wasn’t obvious in the morning when Marik got up and walked into the kitchen to find he’d already made breakfast and was halfway through a cup of tea.

There was some pleasant breakfast conversation, but then Marik was leaving to head back to where he was actually staying while he was in Domino and Ryou put the entire visit out of his mind. As much as it distracted him from his more pressing issues, he didn’t want to think too much of it. Always too worried to focus on anything that could be good for him, wasn’t he? But there wasn’t much he could do about that right now.

He poured himself another cup of tea and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to choose as a major.

* * *

Well, tomorrow was the day.

He stared up at the ceiling and wondered why he had to be in this situation. What had he done? Surely this wasn’t punishment for what the  _ Thief King _ had done, right? They weren’t the same person. He couldn’t be a reincarnation or descendant of him because his soul had been in the Ring for the last few thousand years and it wasn’t as if he’d  _ fucked. _ Least of all a woman. So what was this? What made him deserve to deal with all of this?

It wasn’t much of a worthwhile pass time, thinking about this, but he couldn’t help it. By tomorrow afternoon he’d have to have at least a vague idea of what he wanted to do figured out. By tomorrow afternoon he had to have made peace with not being able to take the break he so sorely needed. Made peace and moved on.

Not that he really knew how to do either of those things.

He didn’t get the time to figure it out, after all.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

_ “... Cause I, I gotta get out of here. I’m stuck inside this rut―” _

He picked up his phone before it could pipe out any further lyrics and flicked his thumb over the symbol to answer the call. Why wouldn’t he answer Yugi? Lord knew the guy was a welcome alternative to sitting here losing his mind.

“Hello?”

_ “Ryou, hey!” _ Yugi seemed to shift on the other end of the line,  _ “So, I know it’s short notice but Marik and I are going out to do some stuff tonight and I wanted to know if you wanted to come? You’re really the only one comfortable enough with him and you know I’m always looking for excuses to drag you out in public with me.” _

There was the hint of a joke in Yugi’s words, and some part of Ryou was just relieved to know he was Yugi’s first choice to ask for this, even if it was by process of elimination. And, you know, relieved to know that he existed to other people even when he wasn’t around and taking up space. And that Yugi wanted to do anything with him to begin with.

“Well I suppose my answer depends on what ‘stuff’ means, exactly,” He chuckled back to Yugi, sitting up, “I can’t be out too late since I have to be up early enough to be able to spend a good couple hours hyping myself up to go register for classes.”

He could almost feel Yugi wrinkling his nose on the other end of the line, but he didn’t say anything about it even if his distaste could be felt.  _ “Nothing too wild. Mostly just going out to eat and maybe wandering around in the mall for a while.” _

“Sounds like my kind of outing,” And that was really all the motivation Ryou needed to get out of bed and start looking for something else to wear. “What time?”

_ “I’m meeting Marik at the Mall in an hour,” _ Yugi informed him,  _ “So you can either show up at the Game Shop in thirty minutes or in the Mall parking lot outside the main doors in an hour, give or take. It’s up to you.” _

Ryou snorted, knowing his choice was going to be to meet at the Mall. Just… Maybe not waiting an hour to get there.

“I’ll be there.” He assured him, “See you.”

_ “See ya, Ryou!” _

Ryou planted himself calmly on a small half-wall outside of the main doors of the Mall a stunning forty-five minutes minutes early and crossed his legs. He had considered going to the Game Shop instead since he had left his flat so early, but ultimately he’d decided against it. He’d rather meet both of them here.

It’d feel less weird that way, he thought.

But as it was he had another half-hour before either of them were likely to show, and therefore had entirely too much time to think. He didn’t like that. But he  _ did  _ like that being out here among all these people turned his thoughts to a slightly less grim and painful topic. It made him think more about their lives and whatever the hell they were doing than about his current issues.

He was midway through analyzing one small group’s fashion and the likely connotations of it when Marik’s approach snatched his attention away.

He waved politely to the Egyptian, who gave him a double-take, then a smile and a wave in return.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here so early,” Marik admitted, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all,” Ryou made a vague motion to imply Marik should go for it.

He did so.

And they waited in relative silence until Yugi arrived about ten minutes later.

“So, Bakura,” Marik leaned toward him a bit while they waited for Yugi to return with his food some considerable time later, after they’d wandered the mall for a while, “Yugi mentioned something about college.”

Ryou chose not to be bothered that Yugi had brought that up with someone else. Who knew why―not that it mattered. Yugi could talk about whatever he wanted.

“And what about it?” He asked, quirking a brow.

“He also mentioned you’d wanted to take a year off, but now you’re talking about registering for classes tomorrow.”

He found his eyes narrowing. Where was this going? Why did Marik  _ care? _

Seeing the look on his face, Marik nervously grinned and hurried onward, “He’s worried about you. I just know that he won’t ask you about it and frankly after the comment you made about not having time to process your trauma I’m a little worried too.” He winced a little bit, “I know I don’t know you well, but I want to, and I’ve been told friends make sure their friends are alright.”

He stared at him for a moment. Just watched him and tried to pick out any obvious cues that he was lying. That he was playing a part or simply pretending to worry. Or only worried for Yugi’s sake.

But he seemed earnest and honest, and eventually he sighed and cast a glance around for Yugi.

Could he talk about this? And with someone he didn’t  _ know, _ no less?

Marik was hardly the epitome of a close confidant.

… But he  _ also _ didn’t have any expectations to be meeting, with Marik, now did he? Or at least none that would be terribly effected by this. Marik probably already had it in his head that he was emotionally unbalanced and stressed out of his mind.

Yugi was still off getting his food, and Ryou sighed again.

“I’m not going to say that you  _ shouldn’t _ be worried,” He said, unhelpfully, “But I’d prefer if you weren’t.”

“That’s gonna be a hard sell.”

“I’m aware.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not important.”

“Bakura…”

“Let’s save me pouring my heart out for when we’ve known each other for at least a month, yeah?”

“... Yeah, fine.”

An awkward silence.

Ryou’s stomach rolled.

“My father thinks that if I take a year off I’ll just wither away in my flat and it won’t be at all conducive to me feeling better.” He blurted in a rush, “So taking a year off isn’t an option I have anymore.”

He clamped his mouth shut and slapped a hand over it, then dropped his forehead onto the table. He knew Marik was staring at him, now. He hated it. God, why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? He’d opened it to say something  _ entirely _ different, but  _ that _ was what had come out.

“So, what?” Marik asked, and it didn’t sound judgemental, “You have to go straight to college?”

He groaned quietly, “If I take a year off from school, I have to get a job.”

“... Anything to get you out of your flat, huh?”

“I  _ guess?” _

“I mean…” Marik trailed for a moment, “You have Yugi. You might potentially have me. We could make sure you get out of the apartment and don’t just wither away.”

It was not an offer he was expecting from Marik. He lifted his head to stare at him. Marik just shrugged.

“And if that’s not enough to get him off your back, I could hire you as my local guide or some bullshit like that that’ll get you out of the apartment from time to time  _ and _ would put money in your bank account.”

“I…” Ryou blinked, saw Yugi approaching. “I’ll think about it?”

“Works for me.” Marik shrugged again.

And he dug into his food at the same time Yugi sat down with his.

* * *

_ Ryou sent: Hey, dad, if I have friends will you let me take a year off? Yugi keeps inviting me to do things and I don’t think I’d have time to hang out with him if I was working or taking classes. He starts college next fall when I was planning to start so everything would even out in the end and I’d still end up in college. _

It was worth a shot.

Even if it wasn’t likely to work.

* * *

_ Father sent: I still don’t think it’s a great idea, but as long as you won’t be wallowing away in your apartment I don’t see why not. Tell Yugi I said hi! _

* * *

He was supposed to be going to register for classes in twelve minutes.

…

He wasn’t going.

And that was a bigger relief than he even had words to describe. He wasn’t going. He didn’t  _ have _ to go. He could stay right here  _ all day. _

If touching people (and especially people he didn’t know) didn’t make his skin crawl so bad, he’d squeeze Marik’s guts out with a hug the next time he saw him. As it was he was just going to have to say thank you. Had he not suggested it, Ryou wouldn’t have even considered that having  _ friends _ was a viable way to keep his dad off his back for a year.

Gods.

He  _ wasn’t going. _

He felt tears in his eyes before he even knew what was coming over him.

He turned over in bed, buried his face into the pillow, and sobbed his heart out.

* * *

A few weeks went by, and Ryou spent an embarrassing amount of time crying in his apartment. Everything seemed to be too much all at once. He kept thinking about everything that had happened and though he’d grown apathetic to it  _ years _ ago it was suddenly like the world was crashing down around him. It felt like it  _ should. _ It felt horrible and it was terrifying and the only release was crying. If he didn’t live in a flat with neighbors  _ everywhere _ he’d scream, too.

But he was starting to feel better.

He attended outings with Yugi every time he was invited, for the most part, but otherwise spent his time alone in his apartment and  _ living _ for the feeling of freedom it afforded him. He didn’t have to leave. Only Yugi really called him away from the safety of this place and when he did it was at least  _ fun,  _ never something he had to do. He could say no. Yugi would understand.

But inevitably, hanging around Yugi so often segued into him hanging around Marik more. And hanging around Marik led to the two of them actually talking, actually getting to know each other. And Marik was actually… Pretty cool.

Ryou would freely admit that he  _ really _ liked Marik, once he got a chance to get to know him. They had plenty of interests in common (and some common trauma), and it led to lots of late night discussions. Ryou had never had someone fall asleep while on the phone with him before, but when he saw it was almost three in the morning every time Marik did it, he understood.

He didn’t question why Marik stayed on the phone with him until he passed out most nights―he understood that, too. There was a certain kind of comfort in having someone else around… Or at least feeling like someone else was around. It certainly managed to put him to sleep a few times to just hear Marik breathing on the other end of the line after  _ he’d _ fallen asleep.

“Kura,” Marik said, some months into them knowing each other, “Is it weird that I want to have a sleepover?”

Ryou snorted, “Not at all.”

“Can we?”

“Just you and me?”

“We could invite Yugi, I guess,” Marik shrugged, “But my initial thought was just you and me, yeah.”

“I’m down.” Ryou shrugged right back at him, “It sounds like fun.”

So they had a sleepover, and it was a lot like being on the phone with Marik late at night. It was just that, once Marik fell asleep listening to Ryou ramble, Ryou could lay his head down right next to his on the living room floor and hear his breathing and feel his warmth at the  _ same time. _

He woke up with his head on Marik’s chest, and it wasn’t bright out yet so he just turned his face toward Marik’s neck and let himself fall back asleep to the soothing, steady beating of Marik’s heart.

Marik didn’t question it, in the morning, or really even comment on it.

Ryou appreciated that.

* * *

Sleepovers became fairly commonplace, after that.

Ryou got used to having Marik within arm’s reach. Got used to waking up cuddled up to him. And Marik didn’t seem to mind it at all, really―in fact he seemed to enjoy it. So they both allowed it and didn’t talk about it.

He woke up one morning to Marik running his fingers through his hair and humming softly, and it was about that moment that he realized  _ maybe _ the fondness he had for Marik wasn’t quite platonic. Not anymore, at least. They’d known each other for  _ probably _ six months at the most by then. Plenty of time to have developed a crush.

And he was sure it was a crush.

This didn’t feel like it would feel with Yugi.

It felt different, but not in any sort of way that he wasn’t okay with. He was totally down for this. Having a crush on Marik wasn’t the end of the world, you know?

It might even end up being something very good for both of them.

He tucked his face in a little closer to Marik’s neck, hummed happily, and otherwise didn’t give much indication he was awake. And Marik hesitated for a second. Then laughed quietly, to himself, and resumed his humming.

Ryou fell back asleep, eventually, to the thumping of Marik’s heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the thrumming in his throat as he hummed, and the soothing feeling of having someone running their fingers through his hair. No one had played with his hair like that since he was a  _ child. _

Only Amane and his mother had ever really wanted anything to do with his hair―his father seemed to have some trouble managing it, especially after they passed.

When he woke up again, he was on the couch on his own, and his hair had been loosely braided. He examined the braid for a moment, laughed at the realization that only Marik could have done it, and felt something warm and  _ good _ in his chest.

This was definitely, at the very least, a crush.

“... Oh, ‘Kura, you’re up.” Marik’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and when he glanced up the man was closer than he expected, setting a cup of tea on the coffee table, “I, uh, I hope you don’t mind that I braided your hair?”

“I don’t mind at all.” He assured him, and gave him a smile for good measure, “It’s been a long time since anyone else touched my hair, though, I’ll be honest.”

“I used to braid Ishizu’s,” Marik admitted, “When I could get away with it. But it’s been a long time, so I think my skills are suffering.”

“I’d be happy to let you practice on my hair.”

“You just want your hair played with,” Marik accused playfully, and Ryou could only grin.

What could he say? Marik had seen right through him.

They just sat there grinning at each other like idiots for a while, and it was among the best feelings he’d ever experienced, frankly. It was comfortable, and warm, and light. It felt like home, and safety, and so many other things he just couldn’t put into words.

One day he’d try to articulate it properly, but today was not that day.

* * *

“Rough night?” Marik asked.

Rubbing his eyes, Ryou just gave him a suffering look and put his head back in his hands. As wonderful as sleepovers had been for all this time, they were also kind of the bane of his existence at times like this. Marik always knew when he didn’t sleep during sleepovers. Always knew when he was having a bad time.

And right now was a particularly bad time for him.

If his brain could just  _ stop― _

“Do you want me to make you some tea?”

Oh, that certainly did the trick. His train of thought ground to a halt at the offer, and it was hardly the first time that Marik had made him tea but the offer was still so  _ strange. _ No one ever offered to make him tea. To take care of him even just in such a small way.

“... Yes, please.” He croaked, softly.

And Marik was quiet, but Ryou could hear him moving around the room while he got his tea ready. And then he heard the cup being sat down gently in front of him. And then he felt Marik carefully freeing parts of his hair from where they were trapped in the folds of his arms and stuck to his chest by them.

Marik didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to―the message here was clear even without words.

He was here, he wanted to help, and he wanted Ryou to feel better.

He braided his hair while he sipped at his tea, and Ryou could only wonder when exactly Marik had learned to make it exactly how he liked it.

Part of him suggested that, maybe, just maybe, Marik  _ paid attention to him. _ And it was surreal to think, but what else would explain it? Marik must have been paying attention to him. To what he did. To how he liked his tea.

“... Marik?” He piped, softly, after the Egyptian had tied off the end of his braid.

“Mm?”

He hesitated, but nonetheless managed a slightly choked, “Thank you.”

Marik leaned closer, pressed a kiss to the side of his head, and said, “Any time.”

And it wasn’t a magical, instant feeling of everything being better. Not by any means. But things  _ did _ feel a little better. A little lighter. He felt supported, like he wasn’t going to have to do all of this on his own.

He’d always carried all of it alone. Having someone to help was  _ surreal. _

But it was a welcome change.

* * *

The first time Ryou slipped up and told Marik he loved him, they’d known each other nearly a year. More than enough time to develop a crush, and for that crush to turn into something else.

And it wasn’t anything spectacular, really. It wasn’t a big moment. Marik didn’t do anything special, and Ryou wasn’t looking for a reason to tell him.

They were just out to eat, and Marik was watching some birds outside the window and Ryou was watching  _ him. _ Taking in the long platinum blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail with his bangs swept out of his face and pinned there by a clip Ryou had given him. Taking in the caramel tone of his skin and the way he almost seemed to glow with health on sunny days like today. Taking in the bright lavender eyes ringed by expertly-applied kohl and the way that they reflected the light. Taking in the meticulously maintained muscles that he only caught glimpses of here and there when Marik shifted.

And his thoughts were consumed completely by the simple fact that Marik was  _ beautiful, _ and he was  _ kind, _ and he  _ cared about him. _

He was by no means someone who confused being cared about with being in love. Marik caring about him  _ mattered, _ certainly, but he wasn’t delusional. He wasn’t in love with him, or rather didn’t  _ think _ he was in love with him, just because he gave a shit. It was a big thing, a good motivator, but it was  _ not _ the reason. The reason was so much more complex than that.

So many things about Marik himself that Ryou just couldn’t even put into words.

So when Marik glanced at him and saw him staring, and he cocked his head to the side in question, Ryou all but felt Cupid’s arrow where it was surely lodged in his heart.

“I love you,” He said, without thinking.

Marik blinked once, twice. Turned red. Covered his mouth and looked back out the window.

And Ryou felt himself turn red, too.

“Sorry,” He said, immediately.

But Marik shook his head with red cheeks and managed to meet his eyes for a moment. Moved his hand so he could give him a nervous smile.

“I love you too.” He all but uttered.

Oh, yes, that was definitely Cupid’s arrow in his heart. How long ago had that gotten there? He’d bet he’d never be able to figure it out for sure. There were too many moments when friendship could have become a crush, when a crush could have become love.

He gave Marik a nervous smile in return.

Marik reached across the table.

Ryou took his hand.

And they were red from cheekbone to collarbone, but they were together and they were on the same page, and that was all that mattered.

“― I just, I dunno,” Joey was saying, “What do  _ you _ actually think of him, ‘Kura?”

“I’m in love with him.” Ryou shrugged, and watched Joey pause with wide eyes. “Have been for a while now. So I’d say I think he’s pretty great.”

Joey blinked. Then he grinned and pulled Ryou into one of his famous bone-crushing hugs. Ryou didn’t question it, just hugged back and waited for the inevitable explanation.

“Does he love you back?” Was the first thing Joey said after he set him back down and pulled away. He looked oddly serious all of a sudden, “Does he at least acknowledge your feelings? Treat ya right?”

Ryou felt himself flush a bit. “Yes, Joey, he loves me too.” He said, “And yes, he treats me right. Makes tea for me and braids my hair after a bad night without even being asked and everything.”

And Joey nodded his understanding, expression lightening considerably, “Good. Cuz if he ever hurts you, I’ll wreck his shit.”

“I know you will, and I appreciate it.”

And to think, they’d gotten onto this subject because Joey still didn’t know Marik very well and had wanted Ryou’s opinion on him. He seemed to trust Yugi to be a good judge of character, but evidently wanted a second opinion given what Marik had put them all through back in the day.

Ryou loving him and vouching for him being a good person seemed to set him completely at ease.

“So,” Yugi said, grinning, “I hear there’s a new development with you and Marik.”

Flushing, Ryou covered his face with his hands, “Joey told you, didn’t he?”

“Actually, Marik did.”

He flushed further. Somehow that was  _ worse. _ Or, well, not  _ worse, _ but… Hm.

“He told you about it?” He squeaked.

“Gushed for an hour and a half,” Yugi confirmed, “Kept talking about how lucky he felt and how he was pretty sure you didn’t have feelings for him but there you went blowing his expectations out of the water by just dropping an ‘I love you’ like it was nothing.”

“It was not nothing,” Ryou made sure to tell him, looking up from his hands, “But it sort of slipped out like it was.”

“Thought about it too hard and it just came out, huh? I’ve done that.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I just hope you two are happy together,” Yugi shrugged, “You know that’s all I want for my friends.”

“I know, and I really appreciate you being on the lookout for my happiness.”

Yugi smooched him on the cheek in reply and pulled him into a hug for a selfie.

Ryou just rolled his eyes and smiled for the camera.

“I kind of expected this to feel weird,” Marik admitted to him, softly, while they laid together on their air mattress in the middle of the living room, “But I am  _ really _ glad that it doesn’t.”

“Me too,” Ryou agreed, tucking in closer to him.

Marik’s fingers toyed with the loose strands of his white hair, twisting them carefully around his fingers and making sure he un-twisted them with the same level of care. It was soft. Comfortable. Ryou hummed contentedly to himself and tucked in a little closer once again.

Marik chuckled, softly.

It was quiet.

Ryou was sure Marik’s heartbeat put him to sleep in moments.

* * *

He blinked weary eyes open, and it was dark, and Marik was shifting a troubling amount in his sleep.

He sat up, instantly, and his first thought was that it was too dark.

The power was out.

It had to be, for there to not even be the glow of a streetlamp peeking in through his windows.

He jerked up immediately, because he knew why he was awake. It was too dark. And he’d come a  _ long _ way over the years but being trapped in darkness was  _ not _ something he cherished. Part of him wondered if that was why Marik seemed to be having a nightmare.

Eyes all-too accustomed to the dark guided him to the currently displaced coffee table and he barely even stumbled or mis-stepped getting there. Didn’t miss when he cast his hand out for a lighter. Flinched in the spark of light as he lit it but felt himself relax instantly when the glow illuminated the room. When he’d lit the candle in the middle of the table and transferred the flame to it.

He stood a moment to get used to the change in brightness, and then he was moving to light the  _ other _ candles stashed about the room.

Marik jerked up at about the moment he lit the final one, and he was back at the Egyptian’s side in an instant.

“... Marik?” He asked, softly, unsure if he was actually awake or not yet.

“... ‘Kura?” Marik asked in reply, without looking up at him through the curtain of his hair.

“I’m here.” He assured him.

He tried to reach out with his left hand, to sweep some of Marik’s hair away from his face. Was surprised, though not terribly so, to find his arm wouldn’t move. Barely so much as twitched, and even then only  _ above _ the old scar on his bicep.

But that was something he was used to.

He reached out with his right hand instead.

Platinum hair was tucked behind an ear, and wide lavender eyes stared into his. He stared back, as reassuring as he could be. That was all he could provide, right now―reassurance.

Clearly Marik had woken from a nightmare. It wasn’t hard to draw the conclusion that he started having it for the same reason that Ryou had so suddenly found himself conscious. He couldn’t blame him―he’d had nightmares, too, for a while. But he’d grown to forget them as soon as he’d woken up and if he had them  _ now _ he certainly didn’t have any knowledge of it. Zorc had been terrifying. Everything  _ involving _ him had been terrifying. Marik had every right and every reason to be having nightmares. Ryou wouldn’t ever even  _ pretend _ to begrudge him that.

So he tucked another piece of hair behind his ear, settled closer, and pulled him into a one-armed embrace.

Marik hugged back. Squeezed him close and didn’t let go.

And they didn’t talk.

They just sat awake until morning.

And eventually Marik asked about his arm―why he wasn’t using it. Made note of which arm it was. Asked if it hurt.

Ryou told him the truth, of course; “No, it doesn’t hurt. It’ll pass.”

It happened… Not often. Not with any frequency. But he knew the link between each incident of his arm deciding it was just not going to work. He knew that every single time, he felt too close to being in Zorc’s hold again. It was stress and trauma related, it always was. It came and went and given a few more hours and some distance from this situation it would go again.

He wasn’t one to learn psychological terminology just to throw it around and self-diagnose himself, but he was fairly certain that this type of physical reaction to mental trauma (and physical, to some extent) was psychosomatic. It was real, but it wasn’t  _ right. _ He wasn’t currently injured, didn’t even feel  _ pain _ in his arm. It just wouldn’t respond until he was out of this situation, away from this stressor.

… Maybe he should see a therapist.

Ah, but what would he ever say that would be believed? It’d never work if he couldn’t tell the truth.

Marik stared at him, probably weighing his response in his mind.

And then he seemed to decide that he wasn’t going to ask, and Ryou appreciated that.

They would wait for the power to come back on together, and then they would have breakfast.

It’d be normal, and it’d be fine.

* * *

“Ryou,” Marik called from outside the tent, “Come look at this.”

So Ryou made his way to where Marik stood, and followed the Egyptian’s gaze up into the sky. And what he saw took his breath away completely―he’d never  _ seen _ so many stars. It was so beautiful. He felt his breath actually leave his lungs, felt his eyes go wide.

Marik’s hand clasped his.

“That’s the Milky Way,” He said, softly, drawing his finger over the nearly blinding strip of stars clustered in a thick line through the sky, “And that’s the Big Dipper.”

Ryou could only squeeze his hand in reply and gape.

And Marik laughed. Drew him down into the sand with him so they could lay down and see without straining their necks. Traced over constellations as he named them for him, pointed out individual stars and  _ named _ them.

And there were so many.  _ So _ many.

Ryou had never seen this many and it was  _ something else _ entirely. And Marik  _ knew _ all of this.

He held his hand and listened and let himself be silently awed.

(And, though he’d never know, Marik spent the whole time stealing glances at him, in awe, himself, of the way that the stars reflected in Ryou’s eyes.)

* * *

Ryou smiled to himself. Put his hands on his hips and looked around at the painted walls, the carefully selected drapes, the comfortable furniture.

Looked around at the home he now shared with Marik, filled to the brim with things they had given to each other.

Things that Marik had seen and thought he would like. Things that Marik had been reminded of him by. Things Ryou had made with Marik in mind.

Pictures of the two of them on the walls.

Plush, soft carpet beneath his bare feet.

Dim fairy lights pinned oh so delicately along the seam of the walls and the ceiling, so that it would never be too dark.

The collection of movies and games and books they both enjoyed.

The TV, the coffee table, the rugs scattered about on the hardwood in the dining room, the colorful specks of paint left over on the white trim of the windows and doors.

He looked around at the home they’d made together, and he could only smile wider.

He padded into the hall, up the stairs to their crafting room. Looked at the half-finished works waiting for him. The portraits and figures already requested and half-paid for by lovely clients who always came back for more.

Before Marik came ‘round, Ryou wouldn’t have ever thought he’d want this. That he could have this. That he would  _ enjoy _ this. He’d thought crafting for a living would take all the life out of it, all the joy.

And sometimes, sure, it got stressful… But Marik was always there for him, and they pulled each other back up when things were tough. It was never so much he  _ couldn’t _ get it all done, it was never something he hated so desperately that he couldn’t do it anymore.

He adored his job―not something he anticipated saying at 23.

He adored the life he had with Marik, which he very much anticipated after they’d gotten together.

Hell, he adored Marik, which...

… Well, he should certainly hope he did, really, he thought with some humor as he lifted his left hand to work his wedding band off of his finger for the time being. He tucked it safely into his pocket, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

Marik would be home in a few hours, and Ryou had time enough to finish his preparations for tonight. He was working on the final step right now.

His hands were covered in paint when he was done, and his face hadn’t fared much better, but that was more than alright. He needed to take a shower anyway.

And so he carefully set aside his meticulously cleaned brushes, his cup of paint-water and drying towel, and strode, smiling, out of the room.

Left there, on his table, were two small figures carved lovingly from wood―one pale, one sun-kissed, both smiling as they held each other’s hands.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually, like... A vent fic I started writing in 2018? After my mom started putting pressure on me to start in on my Bachelor's degree or get a job.
> 
> I was 18 going-on-19 and I was exhausted for... Other reasons than Ryou. I had a choice but I didn't really have a _choice_. It was frustrating, and I was frustrated, and I probably would have ended this a lot differently back then.
> 
> But I'm far enough removed from this particular issue now that it felt more fulfilling to give it a sweeter ending than I originally intended. And I mean that physically _and_ emotionally. This hasn't been an issue for me for at least the last year, and I'm 1600 miles away from where I started writing this at. I'm working on my future, and my happy ending, and I wanted to give that to Ryou too. So I gave him time to heal, time he so desperately needed, and I gave him Marik to help him through it because lord knows I wouldn't have gotten this far without my lovely fiance here to remind me to slow my roll and just _exist_ sometimes.
> 
> Anyways! Enough of me being emotional on main lol. If you liked, please let me know! I wrote this for me but, you know, I like feedback haha


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